First Impressions
by NotAContrivance
Summary: A series of ficlets on how Derek and Casey met and why they despise each other so.


Okay, so this is written in a really weird format. It's heavier on action and dialogue than thoughts, for one thing... Which is SO not me. Oh, and it's in third-person, which I rarely ever do anymore, 'cause, well, I hate it. And I never call them by their names... The entire story, pretty much. Which was hard.

Anyways, this is one in a sequence of different one-parters about how D/C met. I figured there had to be a better reason that they hated each other. Anyways, these are going to be in all sorts of different POVs and with all sorts of different goings-ons... So, for instance, in one fic, Casey's dad might be dead and then alive in another... Or Abby might not be Derek's mom... Or, see, you get the picture? Anyways, posting on this is probably going to be sporadic at best, considering I've already got three real fics... lol. Anyways, just so you know, I'm working on Wanting Casey. Which is bad, 'cause I should be doing Consequences. It's about two and a half pages right now. Anyways, um, review... if you feel like it.

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The delicate, light pink silk dress fell in sinuously smooth lines down her form, emphasizing her flat stomach, hugging her curves. It was held up by thin straps, trimmed with varying colors of lace in tints of white and red. Her feet were clad in matching open-toed pumps with three-inch heels. Her shiny chestnut hair was curled soft ringlets, tiny pink roses woven into the part of it that was twisted up. Pink eyeshadow had been applied with care to her eyelids, eyes traced lightly with black eyeliner, jet black mascara making her eyelashes long. Her cheeks were rosy and blemish-free, sensuously full lips coated in Pleasure-Seeking Pink. Her nails were long, tapered, and painted a shimmering pink. A cloud of flowery French perfume lingered in the air around her.

So, why, might one ask, was such a striking beauty hanging out, all alone, in an empty sitting room? That reason was simple enough. Her mother was getting married in a matter of a few hours, and she was steeling her nerves. After all, she did have to give a speech. But that wasn't what was currently freaking our gentle heroine out... She was worried that her life would change drastically, that she would lose her mother to George. Here she was, pacing back and forth impatiently, reciting her speech to herself. Finally, she slumped down unto one of the ancient footstools, her skirt flouncing up behind her.

She sighed wearily, tapping her nails on the table... Tap, tap, tap. The Fireside Room, as it was called, was currently empty and without fire, and in fact was now quite drafty, but she didn't shiver. Fancy crystal chandelier, cushy velvet armchairs, footstools, and couches. It was a nice room, and it was usually filled with people... on Sundays.

Today, however, happened to be a Saturday.

She frowned, thinking of what her mother must be doing downstairs. Was she freaking out too? She had seen what her mother and little sister looked like, and she was blown away... She hadn't seen her mother so happy in ages... Not since her father was alive, anyways.

Then, suddenly, she heard a noise and looked up immediately. A lean, somewhat tall boy was standing there in the doorway. He was clad in a tight, black button-up shirt with white pinstripes underneath a shiny, black leather jacket, a pair of pressed black slacks, and shiny black dress shoes. His hair was sort of long, hanging down on his forehead a little. The first three buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, and his collar was standing straight up. Currently, he smirked slowly, leaning and lounging against the door coolly.

In an instant, heavy-lidded blue eyes met disinterested brown ones. For a moment, the duo regarded each other in silence, taking in the sight before them. Then he strode towards her purposefully, grinning, "So, tell me... What's a girl as gorgeous as you doing here, all alone?"

She smiled back at him, shrugging. "Just waiting until the wedding..."

He nodded, thinking of the wedding with a frown. After the wedding... Everything would change... Silently, he vowed to try keeping things the same. No matter what he had to do.

"You going to tell me your name?" He drawled amusedly, walking towards her. She smiled, patting the space next to her. He continued to grin back and sat down next to her. She could feel her heartbeat speed up a little at his proximity. He was so close! She scooted over a little, turning to him, and holding out a hand.

Their knees touched.

Her breath hitched just a little.

He shook her hand, relishing the warm feeling. "Casey." He nodded, memorizing it.

"Derek. It's nice to meet you, Casey..." He let go of her hand. He stared deep into her blue eyes, trying to communicate his meaning. She nodded, dazed. Without even realizing it, they were getting closer and closer...

"Likewise, Derek." She glanced down briefly, fiddling nervously with her hands in her lap. Suddenly, it wasn't just the wedding she was nervous about. He looked at her searchingly for a moment before speaking.

"Nervous about the wedding?" She looked up at him, smoothing her skirt, and sighing in relief. She nodded carefully, making sure she didn't ruin her hair. He really had no idea... Or, at least, that's what she thought.

"I wish I could just... relax." She sighed again, looking up at him. Impulsively, he grabbed her hand and she smiled at him, feeling the sparks. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her. A way to... relax. She reached over and grabbed him suddenly by the lapel, pulling him into a kiss.

It was passionate and a bit rougher than intended. A jarring shock to her system. After a moment, they broke apart somewhat awkwardly. She looked in his eyes, and he stared back. "Don't touch my hair... It's been styled for the wedding."

He chuckled and she began to smooth her hair nervously, frowning. It just couldn't get messed up. Her mother would kill her, and then she'd be accused of trying to ruin the wedding because she didn't want it to take place... Which, okay, she didn't. Her soon-to-be stepfather was a nice enough man and everything, but he had kids of his own. And what if they didn't like her? What if they didn't get along?

She bit her lip, looking nervous enough to bite her nails. He placed a hand on her cheek and pulled her into an even longer kiss. They broke apart breathlessly, and she started giggling. He chuckled in response.

"Casey! We need you down here!" A voice called up the stairs. She shot up like a rocket, nerves immediately showing on her face. She glanced over at him, a pleading look on her face. He too got up, walking over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

"You'll do fine." She believed him, looking in his sincere eyes. He smiled a bright, beaming mega-watt smile, and she could suddenly do nothing but smile back coyly. She leaned in for another kiss as did he.

But what could have been a beautiful moment was shattered by yet another yell.

"Derek! Get your lazy butt down here! Dad's going to have a heart attack and Marti's... We need you, man!" The voice sounded young and very, very desperate. He groaned, rolling his eyes, annoyed. She frowned. He would have to go?

"Can it wait, Ed! I'm in the middle of something here!" Ounces of teenage frustration leaked through his voice. She crossed her arms over her chest, wanting to sit down again.

"Casey, are you up there? Please! The bride's having a crisis down here! Oh, and the flower girl..."

She looked at him, and he looked at her. Both sighed in unison, before calling out to their siblings.

"Coming!"

They looked to each other desperately. He licked his lips. "See you at the reception, I guess?"

A slow smile curved across her face. "If I don't see you at the wedding first..." She placed her fingers on his lips, carefully wiping away the lipstick. He grinned back at her. They smiled at each other a second more before both turned and went their separate ways. Her to the dressing room, him to the sanctuary.

She was prepared to never see him again. It was the way these things went. He was accustomed to such things. Girls would come and go. He was happy as long as he got what he wanted when he wanted it. So it was a bit of a surprise when they found themselves together at the doors to the sanctuary. The bride and groom were MIA, and no one was there to explain things to them.

"What are you doing here!"

A sense of panic and thrill ran through her. He gave a wary look before answering.

"I'm supposed to be walking the Maid of Honor down the aisle."

He said this as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. In some ways it was, especially seeing as he was the Best Man. It was, after all, one of his duties.

"I'm the Maid of Honor!"

She was alarmed and on edge. Even more nervous than before. He frowned to himself, suddenly very confused.

"But I'm the Best Man..."

Now she was confused. Certainly it made sense. But why... How was he the Best Man? How was she the Maid of Honor? He pondered the same questions as she did.

"My mom's the bride..."

She bit her lip, beginning to pace. A worried look crossed his face.

"And my dad's the groom..."

She stopped dead in her tracks, and horrified looks crossed both of their faces. In a split second, the same, terrible realization occurred to the both of them. Immediately, they sprung apart, backing up until their backs hit separate walls. Wide-eyed stares, gaping mouths, eyebrows disappearing into their hair. A perfect picture of sheer, utter horror.

"You're my stepbrother!"

"You're my stepsister!"

He wiped his lips on his jacket, feeling disgusted with himself. She spat on the ground, frantically looking for something to rinse her mouth out with. They spotted the holy water at the same time, rinsing their mouths out with it. He seemed much calmer than she.

She crossed herself, shutting her eyes in prayer, hoping somehow that this wasn't happening.

"Kids? It's time to walk down the aisle..."

The voice of authority. She looked at him and gulped. He held out his arm. Steeling herself and plastering a fake smile on her face, she accepted it. And they marched down the aisle in complete silence, both trying to forget what had occurred.

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-Loren ;

As I said, this is a weird fic. And, no, they're not gonna hook up in every chapter... So, uh, review if it pleases you to do so (Hint: It should). Oh, and I don't own LWD, Derek, Casey, Lizzie, Edwin, George, Nora, or Marti. I don't even own the church... Which is kinda funny, 'cause I was picturing them in my church... It's really a pretty church. Oh, and the Casey crossing herself thing isn't because she's Catholic... I mean, I cross myself when I'm nervous or worried, and my dad's a Protestant minister... Wonder what he'd say if he read this? I shudder to, well, actually, this is pretty tame... No cusswords or sexual innuendos. Okay, I'm good.


End file.
